


you are the sun and I'm just the planets (spinning around you)

by obsessivelyintrigued



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Coda, Fluff, Height Differences, Hurt/Comfort, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I just had to, Justice League Coda, M/M, when you squint just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:19:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivelyintrigued/pseuds/obsessivelyintrigued
Summary: “You taught me the courage of the stars before you leftHow rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist.”-Saturn, Sleeping at Last“I guess you really don’t like me.”Bruce stares at him, and Clark has to pause and bask in delight; Bruce stares at him differently now. Not with defiance and barely masked fear. Not with satisfaction nor with the raw power he had held over the god. No. He looks at him now and Clark can feel him finally seeing who he is. Can see him finally looking past the numinous painting of him he had seen from the past. Can feel him shedding the threat he had felt against him before.There’s a speck of blue in his left eye.“I don’t… not like you.”





	you are the sun and I'm just the planets (spinning around you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheResurrectionist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheResurrectionist/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [（中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese）you are the sun and I'm just the planets (spinning around you)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877902) by [Frimaire_Choi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frimaire_Choi/pseuds/Frimaire_Choi)



> My shipper heart is dancing to this love song called Justice League.
> 
> Title from Fall Out Boy’s _Last of the Real Ones_ , because damn if that song isn’t giving me the superbat vibes.
> 
> This [ fic is also now in Russian!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/6267620) Thanks a lot to belalex. Much love, dear~

_“This is what you do when you love someone_

_You fight for them_

_You honor them_

_You chase after them when you know they need you_

_You help them fight against others_

_You help them fight the battle against themselves_

_You never give up on them,_

_Even when they give up on themselves.”_

  
  


In the midst of it all, right at the place Clark didn’t expect him to be, was Bruce Wayne.

 

He heard him the second he was back to himself, his abilities manifesting again, his powers flowing through his veins. His hearing zones in on his rapid heartbeat as he searches for others. For his mom. For Lois.

 

He didn’t think he heard his heart beating _that_ fast before.

 

Then there were the others. Looking at him like they couldn’t believe he was there. One was staring at him with a look of apprehension painting his features framed by long hair; his senses not missing how the man’s hand tightened on his weapon. And it reminds him of that night, under the harsh bites of the pouring rain, the pain searing across his body at the sick green glow of kryptonite fashioned into a weapon gripped hard by an armored covered fist —

 

— Then the one in the scarlet costumed grinned. His smile reminding Clark of the days before everything. Of the sun pouring on vast cornfields. Of days spent in the kitchen watching his mom. It reminds him of Metropolis and its early morning rush smelling of coffee and pastries for late breakfast. Of cars with its impatient drivers waving folded newspapers impatiently to the source of the heavy traffic. It reminds him of the first time he flew up to the stratosphere, smiling in awe at the sight of Earth and her people. It reminds him and _confuses_ him. And then there was the woman; he felt like he should remember her. Should have but can’t just yet.

 

Then he heard movements not far from them. A breath held too long, soft gasps and a relieved sigh. A request for the other plan to be prepared and Clark clenches his jaw, balls his fist as he feels betrayal seep into his core. There were movements to his far right, and he directs his glare to the half-man, half-machine trying to control his body from attacking him.

 

In the midst of it all, Bruce was there.

 

And some twisted part that didn’t leave him. Some part of him that refused to be left behind in his grave. Some part that shouldn’t have been there because he already _knows,_ already grazed his fingertips on the edges of the core residing somewhere between Bruce Wayne and the Batman.

 

_There’s a new kind of mean in him._

 

Clark was on him the next instant, tightens his grip on him just a bit and glares at the hazel eyes merely staring at him with a mix of awe and relief still tinged with pain and fear.

 

He glares, and he lets a small smile grace his lips and asks, “Tell me. Do you bleed?”

 

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 

_“I guess you really don’t like me.” He said, despite hearing the slight upbeat of the man’s heartbeat when he arrived. He said, despite the fact that it had hurt even to glance at him when he arrived._

 

_He was there. Right where Clark knows he would be, risking his life for the world._

 

_They’re all here._

 

_Bruce stares at him, and Clark has to pause and bask in delight; Bruce stares at him differently now. Not with defiance and barely masked fear. Not with satisfaction nor with the raw power he once held over the god. No. He looks at him now, and Clark can feel him finally seeing who he is. Can see him finally looking past the numinous painting of him he had seen before. Can feel him shedding the threat he had felt against him before._

 

_There’s a speck of blue in his left eye._

 

_“I don’t… not like you.”_

 

_He grins, then the next second he was there beating the hell out of this horned guy._

 

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 

None of them was talking.

 

Cyborg got the _Flying Fox_ to work again, and that’s something Clark just accepted that he could do; fully acknowledging the fact that without him, they couldn’t have gotten those mother boxes apart and stop the invasion. He and Batman exchanged a nod.  A reassurance that they will be home soon. Clark was left watching as Bruce trudges up the steps away from the control room.

 

He stands almost awkwardly at the center, watching and wanting to assist as Aquaman gingerly sits Barry on one of the steel chairs in front of the computers, the speedster all but gushing about how awesome they were in battle and stuff and it was his first time getting into such a significant fight. Diana smirks, and Clark can see the fondness in her eyes as she asks the speedster if he’s okay.

 

A quick scan shows that Barry is okay, nothing terrible or anything except for some sore muscles from all those throws he got against the wall.

 

“I need to check my sugar levels.” Barry muttered, and Diana ruffles his hair. She turned to the computers and asked Alfred if he could prepare food for them.

 

_“Certainly, Ms. Prince.”_

 

Clark can feel the Atlantean’s gaze on him, watching him closely as he takes in the interior of the _Flying Fox_. Watching as he wonders if this is similar to Bruce's home. Wonders if the ambiance here is the same to the place where Bruce found out about him, studied him.

 

“You okay now?” Aquaman’s thoughts snapped him out of his reverie, letting his hands fall from where he had been unconsciously gripping the sides of his cape.

 

“Yes, I am now. Listen, I want to thank you guys for—” He looks around at them. Barry was smiling at him, encouraging him to say more while Diana stops inspecting her armor to listen to him. Victor leaned back in his seat and Arthur- well, Arthur openly stares at him— “For doing what you did back there. I’d also like to apologize for my actions the first time we met. It was rude and unnecessary.”

 

Chuckling, Arthur stands and grabs his quindent, “Don’t thank us. Thank the Bat. He’s the one insane enough to brew up the idea of reviving you and talking us all into doing that even when Diana tried to stop him.”

 

He stands in front of him and Clark sneak a glance at Diana before he raises his head a bit to look him square in the eyes, “Still, thank you.”

 

Then with a disbelieving huff of breath, Arthur turns away from him; shaking his head as he mutters something about a strong man working alone. He was considering following the Atlantean to talk more, maybe ask him how that conversation of reviving him went. Maybe ask him how Bruce got them all together. But then Diana was beside him, her arms crossed.

 

“You and him should talk.”

 

Clark turns to her, glad to finally not having to look up, “Me and… Arthur?”

 

This time, Diana laughs, and Clark can hear Barry muffling his own with his hand, “No, Kal-El. You and Bruce.”

 

“He misses you,” Barry added, eyes widening as he turns to look at the general direction where Bruce disappeared moments ago, “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

 

Diana pats his arm and gives him an encouraging nod, “Your family isn't the only one who missed you.”

 

: : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : : :

 

Clark found him in one of the rooms aboard the _Flying Fox_.

 

He stares at Bruce sitting with his arms resting on his knees; his head bowed down. He stares and stares and just— _stare_. And Bruce let him.

 

He’s still wearing his armor, sans the cowl and Clark was struck with the stark juxtaposition before him. Bruce Wayne and the Batman. The man who challenged him of his own identity in some high-class party hosted by the man who orchestrated all these messes. And the other, the one covered in armor and fierce wit Clark is yet to fathom, of lethal hands and skilled, measured blows and landings.

 

A juxtaposition of the man under the limelight of the world and of the other comforted by the dark cloak of the night.

 

Clark blinks, tilts his head; hands moving again to grip the sides of his cape.

 

“Would you like a drink or—” Bruce holds up the glass of whiskey to his side, showing it to Clark— “Or I could make you some coffee. I can do that. Brew coffee that is.”

 

“No, I’m—” Clark clears his throat. He walks closer to Bruce and can’t help but to frown at the way he tenses up— “I’m good, thank you.” He said, stopping a few good steps away from Bruce, giving them both the space they seem to need.

 

A grunt was all the reply he got as Bruce downs the rest of this drink. He still watches him, closer now though he didn’t dare to be _any_ closer.

 

Seeing him this close, Clark had to focus on using a single vision. Deciding not to scan his body for injuries because somehow, he feels like Bruce wouldn’t appreciate that. He seems to be the master of his own body; he would know perfectly what to do with it. And after all, Clark is still trudging on murky waters; trying to float would be out of the equation considering how the two of them began.

 

“Bruce.” He calls, willing him to repeat his name in reply.

 

But Bruce didn’t say anything. Instead, he stood and walked to the far end of the room — far from Clark — and places the empty glass on the table. Clark can see him relaxing his shoulders before he turns, his face carefully blank.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Arthur told me that it was your idea-”

 

 _You better not be the first person he sees when he wakes up._ “I’m truly sorry, Clark.” Bruce interrupts, cutting him off with the apology uttered with clenched jaw, “I know, I shouldn’t have done that. You’re right. I didn’t let you live then I couldn’t let you die—” He looks down at his feet, hands moving to grip the edge of the table behind him— “But the world needs you. The _team_ needs you, Clark. _You_ , not _me_.

 

And I would do it all again if it means those people get to live with hope knowing that you’re alive.”

 

The silence stretched between them. Clark stares again and _stares_. Noting the changes in Bruce’s demeanor as he struggles to maintain his gaze. The grip he has on the table tightening just a fraction and Clark thinks about the veins his hand, running up to his arms, growing taut at his current hold. His shoulders tensing up and his throat working as he swallows a lump in his throat. Clark can see it. All of Bruce’s reactions to him. Can hear it with the way he is leveling his breathing, willing his hammering heart back to its slow, quiet rhythm.

 

Then Clark was on him, arms around his neck as he hugs him close, floating the few inches so he could bury his face in the crook of his neck and shoulders. And now Clark can _feel_. Can feel the hardened muscles under the armor still covered in dirt. Can feel the soft, warm whispers of Bruce’s breaths against his skin. Can feel the silky strands of the hair at the back of his neck on his arms. Can feel the exact moment his shoulders sag, surrendering to his touch; though not entirely returning the gesture just yet, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m sorry, Bruce.”

 

When Bruce raises his hand to hug him back, Clark merely tightens his grip, burying his face further and breathing in his scent; replacing the acrid smell of rain on rubble and rusting steel with leather and kevlar, and that scent that is just _so_ Bruce.

 

“ _Don’t_ —” Bruce began, balling his fist on his cape and hugging him closer— “Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing. You don’t deserve-”

 

“It got us here,” Clark said, cutting him off with a smile, places his cheek with Bruce’s. He pulls back a bit to stare at his eyes again, marveling at the fleck of blue so bright and evident this close to him. Clark moves a hand to his neck and strokes Bruce’s stubble with his thumb, “Here we are. Trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”

 

Bruce chuckles and Clark just- _stares_ , again. Stares at the way his eyes are crinkling on the edges, a striking contrast from the hardened and fierce gaze before. The rich sound of his laugh, even that small, reverberating on the small space between them makes Clark want to snap a picture and maybe even frame it, keep a copy in his wallet, or at the secret pocket of his suit and maybe he _could_. Not now, someday though. Someday.

 

“Vonnegut, Clark?”

 

Clark beams at him, blue eyes twinkling in delight because _yes_ , Vonnegut and _everything was beautiful and nothing hurt._

**Author's Note:**

> Let's gush over Justice League on [tumblr!](http://queen---queer.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  **EDIT:** Now has a companion piece! [I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you (but not as much as I do)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12813015)


End file.
